


Despite What You've Heard

by the_link_dock



Series: Harry Potter and Tom Riddle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adorable Harry Potter, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Harry, Anxious Harry Potter, Foster Care, Foster homes, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry doesn't know he time traveled, Harry is not white, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Innocent Harry Potter, Knights of Walpurgis, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Orphanage, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Slytherin Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Tom Riddle is Bad at Feelings, Tom Riddle is a Sweetheart, Tom Wants Harry, Unknowingly, Young Tom Riddle, he tries to be, more pairings to be added, no beta we die like men, the knights help him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_link_dock/pseuds/the_link_dock
Summary: Harry Williams met a boy on the train taking them to Hogwarts. He thought they had become friends, but quickly realised that's not how easy it is.Tom Riddle met a talkative but shy boy on the Hogwarts Express. He had been unreasonably nice and Tom didn't like it. He liked it even less when Harry was nice to everyone other than Tom.





	1. The Other Boy

Despite what you may have heard, Harry was not an idiot. The moment Tom Riddle introduced himself on the Hogwarts Express, Harry knew he was a bad boy. His eyes were dark and there was no light in them. There were no shadows under his eyes, but Harry could tell the boy had trouble sleeping, because Harry had problems too.

Harry didn’t turn Tom Riddle away, mainly because Harry didn’t want to be alone in a strange world. The boy sitting across from him wasn’t interested in conversation after Harry said he wasn’t sure which house he wanted to be in and, no he didn’t notice he could do things others couldn’t. Harry found himself watching the dark eyed boy for the first half of the train ride.

Tom Riddle has dark brown hair that was much tamer than Harry’s raven bird nest. It was combed to the side and looked very neat and elegant, something Harry could never even dream of. Tom’s cheeks were round but Harry could see his clothes were a bit baggy on the paler boy’s frame. Harry had the same problem.

When Harry realised, he was just staring, he flushed darkly before turning to stare out the window at the country side that drifting past them.

He zoned out thinking about the past summer. A man came to his foster home with a letter after Harry hadn’t replied to his. Paper was becoming very valuable and apparently his foster father was keeping them and using them for “personal reasons.” The man, Professor Slughorn (“Not Mr. Slughorn, my dear boy, at Hogwarts you say Professor Slughorn”), told him about Hogwarts and the Wizarding World and took him to Diagon Alley.

Harry absentmindedly put his hand on his rucksack where his wand was, along with some rocks he thought looked pretty and a few introductory books to the Wizarding World.  
When the trolley lady came by, Harry felt embarrassed by not having enough money to get anything—though he wasn’t even sure what their prices were at this point, he still didn’t quite understand the whole “galleon, sickle, knut” thing—then he noticed Tom wasn’t buying anything either.

“Do you not like sweets?” Harry blurted, before he could stop himself.

The other boy didn’t acknowledge him for a few moments until he slowly turned his dark eyes towards Harry. It took Harry a minute before he realised Tom was not glaring at him but silently asking him to elaborate.

“Er—you just—didn’t seem interested in the trolley lady, so I thought—er—maybe you didn’t fancy sweets?” Harry mentally berated him self and felt him body go hot with embarrassment. He was about to apologise when the other boy spoke up.

“Actually, I don’t much care for sweet things. And I think it’s a waste of money, buying something that will last for ten minutes instead of saving up for something that could last you much longer.” Tom’s voice was barely nasally, but Harry felt like the boy could be very condescending without trying.

“Ah, it would take me more than a month to save up for a sweet. I don’t have enough patients to save up for much more,” Harry said with a chuckle.

Tom watched him with narrowed eyes. 

Harry cast his gaze towards the other boy’s second-hand shoes and hunched his shoulders up. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. Professor Slughorn wasn’t very helpful.” 

Tom inhaled sharply and set his book to the side, “Slughorn? You mean you didn’t meet with Dumbledore?”

Harry leaned back slightly, “Er, no?”

The green-eyed boy had heard of Dumbledore in Diagon Alley, and Professor Slughorn had bragged about the power the other wizard supposedly had. There had been some books on the wizard as well, and some news clippings.

“What house is he in charge of?” Tom asked, giving Harry much more excitement than he expected.

“Uh, Slytherin. I think, it was a lot like snakes, which I don’t mind snakes actually. I-” Harry cut himself off. He was about to tell the other boy he could talk to snakes, but his foster mother slapped him when she told him. She hissed about the devil and almost made Harry go through an exorcism.

Tom leaned forward in anticipation, “Yes?”

“I—er—I saw a snake once; it didn’t bite me.” Harry finished lamely. Tom deflated a bit before dismissing what Harry said and began another assault of questions on the Head of Slytherin house: what did he look like, did he seem magical, did he wear robes, did he do magic in front of you?

Harry answered the best he could, which seemed to satisfy Tom for the most part. Harry had drawn his feet up to his seat and sat criss-crossed as he allowed a small smile to show on his face at Tom’s wonder.

The mood shifted when Harry asked a question. “What about Dumbledore?”

The compartment seemed to get 10 degrees colder and Tom’s expression started closing off. “He lit my dresser on fire and accused me of theft.”

Harry gasped and felt his chest hurt. Tom was just a boy, why would an adult do this to him? He sounded nothing like Professor Slughorn!

Harry hadn’t realised he moved until he was lowering himself into the space next to Tom’s stiff form. “I don’t think I like this Dumb-ledore much.” He said as he placed his hands on his tanned knees, looking forward with a sly smile.

Tom looked at him with a bewildered face.

“Get it? Because dumb-” Harry was cut off by Tom sitting up.

“Yes, I understand. I’m not daft you know.” Harry blinked and grinned widely when he saw the corners of Tom’s mouth twitch upwards.

He jolted back with the door was yanked open, not realising he had been leaning in.

An older girl with dark black hair that seemed more blue looked at them with a sneer. “Well? Put on your robes, we’re about to arrive.” And with that, she slammed it shut again. Harry scrambled to his ruck sack and began feverishly getting undressed while Tom was calmer and more methodical.

When they joined the other first years by the boats, Harry had to restrain from grabbing Tom’s sleeve. It didn’t seem like the other boy would appreciate that. Tom looked so calm and like he had done this before.

Harry got into his boat but didn’t get to sit next to him. Some copper haired girl took his spot.

The sorting was an exciting affair. Harry had been distracted by the candles floating around them and didn’t hear his name get called. It took Tom hissing from a group of kids away for Harry to snap his attention to Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes that he realised it was his turn. He felt hot and had to calm his breathing as he tripped on the first step before managing to get to the stool.

He was grateful that the hat covered his eyes, because he felt like crying.

He had a short conversation with the hat-nearly jumping out of his skin when he first heard the voice-before complimenting how the voice sounded and getting sorted into Hufflepuff. He didn’t know if that was good or bad; he couldn’t see Tom in his rush to the yellow table and other than the polite clapping of the other houses nothing was said.

Harry sat with his head down and his shoulders hunched. He clasped his hands in his lap and silently prayed Tom ended up in this house. Harry chanced a peek at the faces around him. They didn’t look as uniform as the other houses. One boy was smiling brightly while another was nose deep in a thick book. One girl was writing in a journal and another was picking at her nails. Harry gave a shy smile to a blonde first year when their gazes met and knew this wouldn’t be so bad. If no one is alike here, then Harry didn’t have to worry about fitting in as much.

He looked up in time to see Tom walking to the green table. Slytherin, is mind provided. He perked up when he saw the table was next to his and tried to catch Tom’s eye but the other boy was lost in the see of black clad students.

The ceremony ended shortly after that and Harry made friendly conversation with the students around him. Harry quickly learned that everyone was addressed by their last names unless on really good terms. Harry wasn’t there yet. A boy with light brown hair named Blishwick sneered when he heard Harry introduce himself as “Williams.” Another boy, Thurkell, told him to ignore Blishwick. Harry had a feeling he wasn’t liked by Blishwick.

Harry didn’t have a roommate. There were only two first years, and they had policies against boys rooming with girls and roommates were assigned by what year they were in. Thurkell explained that Hufflepuff was the house with the least number of students as well. Harry couldn’t understand why.

He went to bed alone for the first time. He was used to sharing a room with five other people. It was dark and he felt cold being alone. He wanted to find Thurkell and ask to sleep with him, but he knew that would be annoying.

He pulled the thick blankets up to his shoulder and tucked his chin, staring at the blurry dark wall in front of him until his eyes became too tired and eventually drooped close.


	2. What's a Mud-Blood?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets called a word that he doesn't understand, but why does that upset so many people?

Harry didn’t see Tom much the rest of his first year. It didn’t seem like Tom wanted to be friends with him, which Harry completely understood. Who would want to be friends with a dark skinned, four-eyed kid who cried when an older Gryffindor boy cruelly smashed a butterfly? Apparently, Beatrice Quincy did, the blonde first year in Hufflepuff.

She let Harry call her Beatrice and often smiled softly at him when he got overly embarrassed. She was nothing like he was. She hexed the Gryffindor boy that made Harry cry and always stood in front of him when other first years tried to pick on him. She held his hand too! His foster brother once told him that when you're really good friends with someone you can hold ands and progress to other stuff. Harry didn't understand what "other stuff" Adam was talking about, but it got him a week without dinner when their foster mother heard. Harry didn't want to hold other stuff if it meant starving each night.

Harry could feel all of his worries fade when a warm hand fit into his. He’d look over at her and she would smile at him and he found himself forgetting why he was so scared.

When Harry ran into Tom in their charms class, the blonde boy sitting next to Tom sneered and in turn, Tom gave a small frown and waved Harry away like he didn’t know him.

Beatrice consoled him when she got their while glaring daggers at the back to the two boy’s heads, ranting about blood supremacy-whatever that was-and patting Harry’s back softly. She muttered hexes she planned to use as well as charms that could turn hair into flowers. That made Harry giggle and feel better.

She was very gentle. From her drooping blue eyes and pale face dusted with freckles. He complemented them once and she flushed brightly and tucked her hair behind her ears say that she’d always been told they were ugly. Harry supposed that’s why they got along with each other; they could see the beauty no one else did.

She once complemented his eyes, saying they looked like bright jade, a type of gem. He’d always been told they were the eyes of Satan. Her words warmed his chest.

They were sitting in the library during one of their study sessions when Harry first heard the term “mud blood.”

He had been explaining the theory of conjuring and its limitations to Beatrice when a Ravenclaw passed them. He hadn’t been at his seat, choosing instead to stand by where Beatrice sat across from him so he could point out where he got his information when he was roughly pushed. He stumbled against Beatrice and smiled sheepishly as he turned to the taller student.

He made to apologise when the Ravenclaw looked down at him, “Just stay out of the way, mud blood.”

Harry’s eyebrows had furrowed. Were all non-Ravenclaws mud bloods? 

Beatrice immediately stood in front of Harry and clasped his hand behind her back. “Shut up, Yaxley! Everyone knows you only pick on muggle-borns because you dad ran off with one!”

That had earned a gasp from Harry and a bat bogey hex from Yaxley. It was later in the Hospital Wing, after bats were no longer coming out of Beatrice’s nose, that Harry timidly asked why she had gotten so mad.

“Because, Harry! Mudblood is a derogatory word! It’s when your parents aren’t magical. It really doesn’t matter how magical your lineage is; I was reading a fascinating article last week about how a muggle-born found evidence that Basilisks are living in London! Basilisks are thought to live in South America!” She had begun to rant.

Harry looked down in confusion. “So,” Beatrice immediately cut herself off to listen to Harry, “your parents don’t…have to be magical?”

She looked at him oddly, “Well, your parents weren’t magical, were they?”

Harry turned his head to the side and mumbled.

“What? I can’t hear you,” Beatrice said, leaning towards him.

“I don’t,” he looked to her face and saw the tentative confusion and fought the urge to cry, “I don’t-”

He couldn’t do this.

He heaved a sob before running off, nearly crashing into the Medi-witch, but thankful she arrived when she did to order Beatrice to stay in the hospital wing for a few minutes for some final questions.

Harry ran down the corridors, passing a few students but no bullies. His glasses fogged up until he could only see faded shapes through a haze of whitish grey. He was brought to a halt when he crashed into another student.

Through heaving gasps, Harry kept apologizing and wiped his eyes with his sleeves to see if he needed to help pick up books or parchment. He looked in front of him to see Tom Riddle muttering about rudeness before he looked into the green eyes watching him.

Harry exhaled softly, “Tom.”

They weren’t friends. They probably never were, but Harry could admit he was glad Tom fit his uniform now. At Tom’s raised eyebrow Harry caught his breath and looked down with dark red staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I mean-er-Riddle, sorry. I couldn’t,” Harry gestured to his glasses that were now only fogged near the inner corners of his eyes, “see, my glasses were,” he sniffed, “fogged up.”

He wanted to say more. He wanted to talk to the excited boy on the train, but he also knew it wouldn’t be welcomed.

Tom sighed loudly before pushing himself up with his two books tucked under one are and offered his free hand to Harry without looking at him.  
Harry gave a watery laugh and a quiet “thanks.”

Only, when Harry was standing, Tom didn’t let go of his hand. Rather, he pulled Harry closer and examined his splotchy face. “Why’re you crying?”

Harry weakly tried to free his hand, but he couldn’t deny how he liked that Tom’s hand felt different than Beatrice’s. Where Beatrice was soft and warm, Tom was firm and cool. Tom was more purposeful while Beatrice was gentler and could easily back off if Harry wanted space.

“I-” his heart stuttered. “I-”

Footsteps ran towards them and Tom slid his hard gaze from Harry’s slightly trembling form to the out of breath girl coming to a stop beside them.

“Harry, what happened? I’m-” She took one look at Tom’s tie and prepared herself to defend Harry against another blood supremist.

“Er-Beatrice this is T-er-Riddle,” Harry said, his hand limp in Tom’s as green eyes stared at the ground.

“Riddle?” She echoed, eyebrows knitting in confusion, a muggleborn?

Tom glared at her, “Do you have a problem with that?” His hand unintentionally squeezed Harry’s tighter, causing the darker skinned boy to wince silently.

She rushed to deny, shaking her head vigorously and waving her arms in front of her, “No! Of course not! Not at all-! I thought you were bullying Harry!”

Harry felt his face warm and hunched his shoulders, “Beatrice.” It was said as a plea. As in, “please don’t embarrass me in front of him.”

Tom gave her one last glance over before turning his attention back to Harry, who looked to be five seconds away from a panic attack. He dropped Harry’s hand.

“Just watch where you’re going,” he muttered, clenching his jaw and stalking away from the two. 

His footsteps echoed down the hall. Rebounding and fading until the last click was heard. Harry was shivering and Beatrice pulled him into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, by now used to the fact that Harry didn’t hug back, but appreciated the sentiment. She murmured apologies into his ear and his started heaving sobs again. It was about five minutes when her shoulder started to dampen.

“Hey, let’s go someplace only we know.” She said, gently grabbing Harry’s shoulders and pushing the delicate boy to stand in front of her. He gave a small sniff before nodding in agreement.

She gave a devious smile that Harry had seen before many times when she was about to hex the other students. He trusted her though, and wasn’t worried when she directed that smile to him. Mostly.


	3. The Kitchens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out what a house elf is and Beatrice finds out what happens to orphans.

Turns out that secret place was the kitchen. Beatrice’s cousin, Edwin Travers, told her about them and how to get into them.

That was where Harry explained that he had never met his parents and that Williams wasn’t his real last name. Harry picked it when he was six because his, at the time, foster mother needed to fill out school forms. He picked it purely because he’d heard it on the radio once. She was quiet and periodically asked questions about what a “foster-mother” was and if every muggle had one. Harry explained that it was where kids could end up if their parents died or didn’t want them.

“So, your parents could have wanted you! Maybe they died! Sorry, maybe they died,” she amended her statement with a sorrowful tilt.

He shook his head and pulled his knees up to wrap his arms around them. “No, the matron told me I was in a sturdy basket with a fancy blanket. They left me there-and they had money! They-it’s not like they couldn’t afford it!” Harry’s breathing got heavier and when Beatrice tried to hug him and backed away and buried his head in his arms.

She apologized quietly for bringing it up, but Harry told her that he was glad he could talk to someone about it. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards and he gave a watery smile.

It took a while for Harry to settle down and for the light atmosphere to return. Beatrice hugged herself, hating that she didn’t know how to comfort Harry or what to say. Harry was grateful for the silence to think about his short stay at the orphanage. It was actually for the majority of his life until the man who ran the orphanage was charged for money stuff that Harry couldn’t remember. 

Or understand.

The younger kids went to foster homes while the older kids were shipped off to other orphanages.

Eventually Harry shook himself out of his head and tried to talk about lighter things. He asked about the wizarding world and Beatrice explained what the creatures making the food were called when Harry asked. 

“House-elves.” 

Harry was actually shocked to see how harsh the typically kind girl was to them.

“You!” She had all but yelled. “Make us treacle tart and pumpkin pasties, now!”

Harry curled into himself. “That’s not very nice of you, to yell at them.” His already quiet voice tapered off at the end.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, “They’re house elves, Harry.” She had said, as if that explained everything.

Harry looked away and hunched his shoulders, “So? They’re still people.”

“No, they’re-” she put her hands in her hair and looked ready to tear her hair out before sighing loudly and sitting next to Harry, wrapping an arm around him. “Harry, wizards don’t treat house elves like people because they aren’t. They’re purpose is to serve their house and they get pleasure from it. Look at it this way, when you free a house elf-”

“They’re slaves?” Harry asked softly. Beatrice blew out a breath.

“N-well, from a muggle stand point I guess, but house elves are different from slaves. House elves are happy to serve.”

Harry carefully met Beatrice’s eyes, “That’s what the slave owners said. That the black people were happy to be subservient. That they wanted to dedicate their lives to working.”

“But-that’s different! Those were people with feelings-” She cut herself off at Harry’s look. “Okay, I see where you’re coming from, but, if a house elf is freed, even amongst their kind it’s considered the greatest dishonour you could receive. House elves rely on their master’s magic to sustain them.”

It made sense and Harry nodded, “It still wouldn’t hurt to say please.”

She gave a small smile but tried to fight it off. “That’s just not what wizards do!”

When the house elves brought their food, Beatrice waved them off while Harry looked them in the eyes and thanked them. He wasn’t prepared for them to cry.

“See!” Beatrice exclaimed, inching away from the creatures.

Harry smiled awkwardly as the house elves thanked him and shook his hand before apologising and hurting themselves. “Hey, hey! Stop that, I’m not mad! I don’t know you people usually treat you, but with me you don’t have to call me ‘master’ or hurt yourselves if you mess up. It’s okay to touch me, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

He moved to sit in the middle of the kitchen, glancing back to see Beatrice giving him an unimpressed look as she ate her pumpkin pasty. Some of the elves gathered around him and he began introducing himself and learning each of their names. “Yes, Tilly-got it. Hi, Whicky, nice to meet you! Pecky-! Do all elves’ names end with a y? Your name’s Bag?” 

This went on for a while. Eventually Beatrice dragged Harry out of there with a sarcastic thank you to the elves. Despite Beatrice’s sour mood, Harry felt better than he had all week. 

He saw himself in the house elves; so eager to please, and quick to punish themselves even if they didn’t do anything wrong, or if it wasn’t their fault. A gently smile graced his face as he stared at where Beatrice had her hand clamped around his wrist.

“Thank you for taking me Beatrice, I’m sorry you didn’t like them,” Harry said, not looking at her face when she stopped.

“Harry,” she gave an exasperated sigh before pulling him into a tight hug. “Look, I don’t think house elves need the kindness you showed them, but I won’t stop you or tell you it’s wrong. But I was raised differently and I don’t think I could do more than saying please and thank you. I certainly won’t learn their names, I mean honestly, there are hundreds of them-”

“Sixty.” Harry interjected. She didn’t stop.

“I won’t lower myself to their level, but I won’t stop you.” She finished, pulling back to look at his face.

“I understand. I’m not upset. We can’t agree on everything.” He said with a teasing smile.


	4. Paying a Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom pays back a debt. Harry doesn't know what he's talking about.

Harry ran into the most problems during Wednesdays and Fridays. On those days, he and Beatrice didn’t have the same classes. Because there were only two Hufflepuff first ears this year, they were grouped in with the other classes and often made for three houses sharing a class, rather than the traditional two. 

Harry had Charms class with Slytherins and Gryffindors. The Slytherins left him alone for the most part, they had too much pride to outright bully him. The Gryffindors on the other hand-

“Oi, ge’a look at this, issa FEB!” A loud red-haired boy yelled in a thick cockney accent. He was pale and Harry couldn’t see his eyebrows because they blended in with the boy’s pink face. Harry hunched his shoulders and turned his gaze to the desk in front of him while he rubbed his hands together in his lap. This was not the first time he’d been called a FEB and it wouldn’t be the last. He chanced a look around the room, but unsurprisingly no one came to his defence.

Most of the Slytherins were watching out of the corner of their eyes, waiting for either a Gryffindor to cross the line or for Harry to cry. Whichever came first. Some of the Slytherins didn’t even look as the rowdy Gryffindors laughed and pushed at Harry’s shoulders.

Harry’s wand lay useless in front of him on the worn desk; a stark contrast of a gnarled chocolate brown stick against a chipped greying desk. He stared at it as he was jostled and blocked them out. He just wished they would leave him alone. 

“Have you really nothing better to do,” a cool voice interjected, cutting through the jeers, “than pick on a Hufflepuff? And I thought Gryffindor was meant to be braver than that.”

Harry’s saviour came in the form of Tom Riddle. The paler boy stood out in the crowd of red. He stood half a head shorter than the other boys, but then again, so did Harry. Although, Harry held onto his scrawny frame while Tom had filled out to the average size of the other first years.

His charms book was held in one hand and in the other his wand rested lazily, yet there was a danger surrounding the boy that Harry noticed immediately. Too bad the Gryffindors didn’t.

Tom looked into Harry’s eyes and the tan boy tried to convey his feelings of relief and apprehension.

“Who’re you?” A darker boy than Harry asked. This one had long curly hair that stopped at his shoulders. He was taller than any of the other first years and his a wide nose that looked good on his face.

Tom gave a sardonic smiled that made Harry tense. “Oh, where are my manners? Tom Riddle, and you are?”

The red head sneered, “A mudblood, are you?”

Tom’s mischief vanished. Before anyone had time to blink, the dark-skinned boy was growing antlers out of his head. When the redhead tried to talk, garbled words came out that no one could decipher. The other three suffered similar fates: a blond, pale boy lost all his hair; a gingery redhead that was wider than the other one started singing uncontrollably; and a dark-haired, Asian boy’s teeth began growing long at an alarming rate.

Tom faked concern and confusion before stepping around the gaggle of boys and coming to a stop at Harry’s hunched form. “Alright, Williams?” Tom took a glance at the stoic Slytherins, “Thanks for helping me on the train.”

Harry nodded unsurely, but one look from Tom’s dark eyes kept him from questioning him. Harry didn’t see the Slytherins raise their heads and watch Tom more carefully, but lacking the same malice that had been there a month ago.

Tom didn’t sit with Harry that day. Or any of the days that followed in first year. Other than the occasional assistance with bullies when Beatrice wasn’t around, Harry didn’t see much of the other boy. Or rather, he didn’t talk to him much.

Harry saw Tom frequently in the library and the cafeteria; finding his gaze locked on the pristine boy.

Beatrice commented on it a few times, making Harry go dark red and fumble with his words. Luckily, she accepted Harry’s explanation of how Tom helped him with bullies but ignored him most of the time.

The year passed without much incident. Harry nodded at Tom in the halls if the other boy did first. He stayed with Beatrice when the two didn’t have classes. He went to the hospital wing when the Gryffindor pranks got carried away, some weren’t even directed at him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Classes were not a top priority for Harry. He did enough to get him E’s in his classes, with the occasional O. He didn’t try to be tom of the class like Tom, but didn’t want to fail like the redhead Gryffindor, George Macmillan.

At Christmas, he got a book on simple defence spells and pranking jinxes from Beatrice, as well as chocolate frogs from Thurkell, surprising Harry and turning him dark red when the older boy gave it to him. He was disappointed when he didn’t get anything from Tom, but then again, he wasn’t surprised.

He didn’t get Tom anything, and they weren’t exactly friends.

Still.

Harry was sad to board the train at the end of the year. He would miss talking with Beatrice, although she made him promise to write to her (using her owl, of course). And seeing Thurkell. And Tom.

Harry was really going to miss seeing Tom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry in the summer  
TW for racism, period typical racial slurs but no specific incidents

Harry spent half of his summer at the Davies’s house. They were a foster family of three other kids, but it quickly became evident they didn’t like Harry. They looked at his trunk and locked it in the basement without any hope of Harry seeing it before the next school year.

He spent most of his time doing chores with the other kids. Sometimes, it would even be fun. They pretended they were locked in a castle and being made to serve the Queen when they did the dishes. They pretended to be scientists when they worked in the gardens, giving fake names to each flower.

It was a complete accident when their foster mother got blown through the dining room window.

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t. But she had just slapped Robert and was about to throw a bottle at Taylor. She had already cut Harry’s cheek with her ring when she back-handed him. Some ministry workers from the Wizard World came by, but quickly dismissed it as accidental magic and left Harry to muggle child service after confounding the muggles to think they were in charge of the investigation.

Harry tried to ask to go to a magic orphanage, but they didn’t seem to know what that was and just told him to listen to what the muggle ministry man said. Harry didn’t have time to explain they were policemen.

His second half of the summer was spent at the Smiths. They were kind but poor. Harry often went to bed hungry with the other nine foster children. The mother, Esther, was an immigrant from Germany and often worked as a housekeeper for many houses. The kids would go with her and help her clean to get multiple houses a day. The father stopped by a few times a week, he would eat, sleep, talk to the kids and his wife before going out again to work jobs.

It was hardly ideal, but Harry liked it a great deal more than the Davies.

He kept in contact with Beatrice and wrote to her every month. She was spending the summer in France to visit her grandmother on her father’s side. When Harry showed his excitement for her, she quickly shut it down.

“France is not a vacation Harry,” she had written. “Grindelwald’s forces are closing in. We’re here to check the warding on grandmother’s manor and make sure she has staff who can protect her.”  
That left more questions than answers. Sure, Harry had heard of Hitler, was Grindelwald one of his soldiers? But that didn’t make sense. As far as Harry knew, Hitler was a muggle so why would Beatrice be worried about a muggle man?

Turns out she wasn’t.

Grindelwald was a dark wizard from northern Europe. Beatrice said there had been no wizard before who was as powerful and as dark as Grindelwald. He wanted to enslave all muggles. She didn’t say what he wanted to do to muggle-borns.

She said he wasn’t in France yet, but word on the street was that he was closing in. She explained that’s why she didn’t invite him to stay with her for the summer. And that her grandmother was highly racist. Although, in the wizarding world, racism was purely based on blood status and not skin colour, like the muggle world.

It was refreshing and infuriating. He wasn’t called “Golliwog” in the wizard world, not that they would know who that was or what it meant. He wasn’t nicknamed Dago, or darkie, or a coconut or a coon. He was still called a half-breed, but by now he was used to it. For wizards, the harshest slur Harry had heard was “mudblood,” which honestly didn’t bother him. 

Eight of the other foster kids were darker than “normal”. Roy was Indian, like Harry. Herbert and Earnest weren’t darker than Harry and Roy, but seemed more brown. Edwin and Clifford were dark boys; the kind of dark that got them called apes, wogs, and tar-babies. Franklin was Asian, but was darker than any Asian Harry had seen before. The ninth boy was whiter than the London clouds.   
Wallace had been very obnoxious during the beginning of the second half of summer. He had been there less than a week when Harry arrived. He always called them teapots or thick lips. He should’ve realised he was outnumbered and Roy was bigger than him.

Wallace didn’t hold onto his prejudices long. At least not as loud.

When Harry laid on the floor at night, next to him Wallace and Edwin, with Clifford by his feet and Roy by his head, Harry thought about what it would be like if they went to Hogwarts. Franklin was ten, so he wouldn’t be there yet, but the others were within a few years of Harry’s age.

He imagined Blishwick calling him a mudblood and then Edwin pulling out a wand and hexing him. Or Roy just handling him the muggle way and fighting. Harry fell asleep with a small smile on his face; facing Wallace and curling against the thinner boy for warmth and imagining him as a pureblood.


	6. Back to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a visitor in the train. They disagree on several things.

Harry was surprised when Tom Riddle sat with him on the train for the second year in a row. 

When Harry wasn’t able to find Beatrice, he settled for an empty car and waited for the train to depart. 

When the door slid open, Harry expected a first year—or even Beatrice looking for him. What he got was a stone-faced Riddle. 

Harry immediately started playing with his fingers and lowered his gaze to the Slytherin’s crest on Riddle’s robes. Harry felt self-conscious that he was still in his normal clothes. 

“Hi, R-Riddle. Good summer?” Harry stumbled over Riddle’s name and mentally berated himself for being so stupid and pathetic that he would mess up a—

His thoughts were interrupted by a growl from scowling Riddle. The paler boy stepped into the car and locked the door behind him before sitting on the opposite side. 

Harry felt his temperature and heart rate sky rocket. He began thinking this is how he’d die. 

“It was,” Riddle hesitated, “tolerable. And yours?”

Harry opened his mouth to agree but then hesitated, “Well, the second half was good. See this,” Harry gestured to a faint but visible white line on his cheek, “got this during the first half because Mrs. Foster wasn’t too happy with me. I mean—her name isn’t really ‘Foster’ it’s what I call foster parents, or—“

Tom sat up straighter, “You’re in the system?”

Harry jerked his eyes to Tom’s face and flushed darkly, “I—I don’t—mean—“

Harry was mortified that he’d outed himself as an abandoned loser. 

He felt some of his anxiety settle when the corners of Tom’s mouth twitched upwards, “You can calm down, you know. I’m not going to attack you for saying something.”

Harry tilted his head, “Why not?”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, “Why should I?”

Harry thought for a moment. “You could ask the Gryffindors. They seem to attack people for saying something.”

Tom shrugged and Harry could’ve sworn he saw a smile. “No, they attack you for saying something. It’s because you’re smaller than them and you cry easily.”

Harry hunched his shoulders as his cheeks burned and felt his throat begin to close. “I’m not a crybaby—I mean—I don’t cry easily!”

Tom snorted, “Oh, please. You’re about to cry right now. I haven’t even done anything!”

Harry noticed his glasses were starting to fog, and jolted forward as the train lurched to head towards Hogwarts. 

Harry furiously wiped his eyes and glared at Tom. Er—Riddle. 

“Why are you even here?”

Tom raised an eyebrow and Harry shrunk back a bit. “Well, you see Williams, when a man and a woman have charged feelings towards each other they experience something called ‘lust’ and that drives them—“

“No! Stop!” Harry pulled his feet onto the seat and put his hand over his ears. “Not what I meant and you know it!”

Tom’s smirk didn’t falter, “Then would you care to elaborate, Williams?”

“Just—you don’t seem to like me.” Harry slowly brought his hands down to rest between his stomach and legs. 

The train jerked a little and he had to concentrate on not tipping over. 

Tom snorted. “Oh, please. Surely you’ve noticed how different you are from the others?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Others?’

“Like...a—a mudblood?”

Tom’s smirk dropped into a scowl and Harry could swear that he heard a growl. 

Harry winced and moved his back against the wall of the train car as he curled in on himself more. 

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to! I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Harry turned his gaze to his knees as his apologies devolved into soft murmurs. 

He heard Tom sigh, and before he could gather the courage to look up, Tom was settling himself on Harry’s bench. 

Tom looked extremely uncomfortable. He reached out a hand but at Harry’s flinch, he immediately dropped it, “Look. I don’t like the term ‘mudblood’. I’m—I’m not a mudblood.” 

Harry glanced down and saw Tom—er—Riddle clench his fists. 

“I didn’t say you were.” Harry said softly. 

Tom looked at him and Harry squirmed at his stare. 

“So, er, others?”

Harry relaxes as Tom calmed down. “You’re not like everyone else. You’re—“

“A freak?” Harry helpfully supplied. 

Riddle glared at him and Harry was quit to start his apology mantra. 

Riddle growled but grit his teeth when he saw that made Harry worse. “Don’t—say—that—about—yourself.”

Harry tilted his head, “But that’s what everyone says. A freak in the muggle world, a freak in the wizard world, a fr—mmph!”

Harry’s shoulders were hunched and Tom’s hand was on his mouth, squeezing into Harry’s cheeks. 

“Don’t—say—that.”

Harry nodded his head quickly and Riddle let go. 

“No, you’re—you’re pure, innocent even.” Tom declared, pulling a leg up onto the bench and turning to face Harry. 

Harry flushed darkly and vehemently protested. 

“I’m not—innocent! I’m far from it! I’ve seen things, I’ve been places! Innocent?! Me?! Never!”

Tom covered his mouth with a hand as he laughed. That only made Harry sink further down. 

When Tom had controlled his giggles, he gave Harry a look that made his insides have butterflies. 

“You really are adorable, you know that?”

Harry sat up straighter and clenched his fists. “I am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not!”

Tom gave him a look as if to say ‘you’re only proving my point’. 

Harry huffed and crossed his arms. 

Tom cooed at him, “Even when you’re angry you’re adorable. Look at you, pouting.”

Harry’s lip jutted out and wobbled without his permission and his eyes started stinging. Why was Riddle being so cruel?

“Williams, are you crying?”

Harry turned his head further into the seats. 

“I’m not trying to be malicious, but you really are to pure for this world. Even when you’re crying you look so soft and innocent.”

Harry sniffed and curled in on himself. 

They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride.


	7. Williams becomes Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the train incident, Harry is in a right mood until one December night.

Much like the year before, despite being somewhat friendly on the train, Tom Riddle did not extend his hospitality during Harry’s second year at Hogwarts and it infuriated him to no end. 

Tom seemed to think they had a secret to share; often sending Harry small smiles or smirks and looking at him as if something funny was just said but Tom seemed to be forgetting something. 

Harry didn’t know the secret!

Every time Tom gave him a smile he tried to figure out what he’d done to warrant it and he came to one conclusion. 

There was no correlation. 

And that was even weirder!

That meant it happened at random times, and made Harry drop his powdered Moonstone in his potion all at once instead of in bits, and his Hiccoughing potion went from a promising yellow to a putrid green. 

Professor Slughorn frowned at him before vanishing the potion and telling him he would have to try again in the next class. 

Harry felt his stomach plummet, but Beatrice told him to look at the positives. At least it didn’t blow up like Barnibus Weasley’s in first year. 

Besides sending him weird looks, Riddle didn’t pay him any attention, which suit Harry just fine when he remembered he was mad at the Slytherin boy for the Train Incident as he liked to call it. 

When he finally told Beatrice, he had been putting it off in fear of her trying to raise Hell, she just rolled her eyes with a fond smile and put a hand on his shoulder saying, “One day, you’ll understand. And you will blush brighter than a Pureblood using the wrong fork for salad.”

Harry was mortified to feel his cheeks darkening and cried out at her. “I—I would not! I—are forks really that big of a deal?”

That, unfortunately brought on Beatrice sending a letter to her mother asking for a book on Pureblood etiquette and Harry spent most of his free time being taught how to act like any respectable Pureblood Wizard. 

He still thought the forks were overrated. 

He stayed for Yule at Hogwarts again, although this year Beatrice offered to stay with him, he could tell she would really much rather go home. 

Instead he spent his time going through the library on pureblood customs and traditions as well as looking through public family histories. 

That was where he found Tom Riddle on December 31st. 

He had been reading “Notable Magic Names of Our Times, when another book, “Nature’s Nobility: A Wizard’s Genealogy”, was listed as a reference. 

He used a point me spell, which, in the Hogwarts library only works with the books are from the Hogwarts library, in the Hogwarts library. 

Luckily, it was. It was lying opening on a table with Tom Riddle going through the lists. 

Harry was ready to turn around and come back for it later, but Tom chose that moment to look up and catch Harry’s stare. 

He gave Harry a secretive smile and Harry scowled in response, but sat across from the other boy anyways. 

“Interesting read, Williams?” Riddle asked, nodding to the book Harry forgot he’d been holding. 

Harry flushed and set the book more firmly on the table, before retorting with the same question. 

Riddle smirked and Harry’s heart stuttered. “It seems we have the same thing in mind. Looking up your lineage, are you?”

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes down. In all honesty, he hadn’t even thought about looking at his lineage or finding out who his parents were. 

He wanted to find out why certain Pureblood lines were prone to producing squibs and how muggleborns were born at all. 

Harry didn’t want to ask Riddle his opinion on this, however. It might just make Harry look like an idiot for even questioning it. 

Instead, he asked, “Found anything.”

Tom scowled and turned the page petulantly. “No. It would have to be from my father, right?” He muttered. 

“What’s from you father?” Harry asked cautiously. 

“Magic! My mother—“ Tom cut himself off and exhaled harshly through his nose. 

Harry looked away with purses lips before nodding to himself and looking up at Tom. 

“I think it’s time for a break.” With that, he slid the book away from Tom and shut it. “Let’s take a walk outside.” 

Harry stood up and stretched his arms while Tom remained seated and staring at him incredulously. 

“It’s the middle of winter,” Tom said, as if Harry hadn’t realised. 

Harry gave Tom his own secretive smile, “And?”

Tom’s brows furrowed further, “I don’t have a coat.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “And? We have magic! Come on, I’ll ask the house elves to make hot chocolate and we’ll cast some heating charms—“

“The what?” Tom asked. 

Harry started at him before realising Tom hadn’t had the opportunity to meet a house elf. His smile grew into a grin. 

“Oh, this will be fun.”

It was fun. Tom couldn’t stop staring at Bag. 

As they sat on the stone ground of the entrance to Hogwarts, Harry gave a lesson on house elves. 

Harry explained to him that most wizards were mean to them, even though they didn’t deserve it. 

That snapped Tom back to reality and the Slytherin Boy gave a devious smile. 

“Only you, Williams. If I’ve only ever been right about one thing, it’s you being much too innocent for this world.”

Harry choked on his hot chocolate and felt his stomach flip. “I am not! Stop saying that!”

Tom snickered, “Just look at you, with your red cheeks and your wide eyes, how could anyone say other wise! I’ve seen a rabbit before, and you are much more pure than it was.”

Harry sloshed his mug as he put it down and scrubbed at his eyes. 

“Why do you have to be so mean! I’m trying to be nice and you just keep making fun of me!” 

Harry felt his eyes stinging and forced himself to calm down when he heard Riddle sigh before he heard the clink of a metal mug being set on stone. 

“Williams,” Tom coaxed softly. 

Harry shook his head and pressed his hands farther against his face, feeling his glasses move on the backs of his fingers. 

“Harry.”

That got Harry’s attention. He froze in his crying, except he was trembling quite a bit. 

“I told you on the train, I’m not—trying to be malicious, I do think you are much to innocent but I never said it was bad or wrong. I find it,” he paused, “endearing.”

Harry’s face flushed for a new reason. 

“You don’t think I’m a crybaby?” Harry’s question was muffled by his hands, and he missed seeing Tom smile at him. 

“Oh, I never said that. I said you’re endearing. I like when you cry—but not when you’re sad.” Tom rushed out the last part and Harry peered at him dubiously. 

Tom had the same unsure look and Harry kept his hands over half of his face to hide his smile. 

“That’s a bit odd, Riddle.” 

Tom huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. 

Harry pushed himself off the ground and glanced around before smiling at Tom and trying to ignore the headache he was getting. 

“Happy New Year, Riddle.”

Tom gave him a genuine smile and Harry knew he had to leave before he did something stupid like compliment it or confess his love or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you see grammar or spelling errors let me know because auto correct is a BITCH


	8. End of Second Year

Something changed that night between them. Yes, Tom still sent Harry small smiles and acted like the two shared some big secret, but Tom was nicer to him. _Talked to him_.

It started out with small things.

“Hello, Harry.”

“I think you dropped this, Harry.”

“Good luck in your class today, Harry.”

It made the Slytherins stare and Harry would always heat up uncomfortably at the attention. He was beginning to understand why Tom had ignored him, and part of him wanted the invisibility to return to him.

Before Tom, Harry wasn’t seen by many or talked about. He conversed with Beatrice and the elves and talked to the professors when absolutely necessary.

Now, people were calling him “Riddle’s Shadow” even though it was _Riddle_ following _him!_

Beatrice found the whole debacle quite amusing.

It was spring and they were sitting out by the lake under a tree. Or, Beatrice was sitting and Harry was chucking rocks into the water with his trousers rolled up to his knees and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I don’t follow him around!” Harry spat out, for probably the hundredth time. “I’m not some-some dog! I-we just happen to run into each other, a lot, and people get the wrong idea! I doubt he even sees me as a friend.”

Harry flung a rock into the water while Beatrice muttered, “Well, you’ve got that right.”

Harry glared at a tree root. Beatrice had been entirely unhelpful throughout all of this. She would wiggle her eyebrows and nudge him after Tom left or when he entered a room and kept saying that Tom didn’t want to be his friend. And she would always say “friend” in a different tone that made Harry think maybe Tom wanted to be his secret friend?

Harry could understand Tom not wanting to be his friend in public. Not many people liked Hufflepuffs, for whatever reason, and Harry was certainly not the House Gem.

Harry wasn’t smart like Tom or pretty like Beatrice or confident like a Gryffindor. Harry could admit that he was nice, but who wanted nice when there were so many other things out there like brave or fierce or fun.

Harry was the no-name cry-baby that the Gryffindors liked to pick on.

Not that they’d done anything recently, Harry had noticed.

Ever since Tom began openly talking to him, there haven’t been much attacks from the Gyffs.

Sure, they still shoved him and knocked things out of his hands and off his table, but they stopped tripping him so obviously and they didn’t use hexes or jinxes when the Slytherins were around.

Harry looked at Beatrice with a frown. “You aren’t being helpful.”

She shrugged, unconcerned and kept her attention on the book in her lap.

_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_, a magic kid’s bedtime story.

He flopped down besides her and put his head on her shoulder.

She rested her cheek on his head and he fiddled with his hands. He liked Beatrice. She was nice to him and she made him happy and laugh and he wanted to hold her hand, but…

Harry stared at his hands.

He wanted to hold Tom’s hand more.

The thought made his stomach sink and his face heat up.

Boys couldn’t hold other boy’s hands. That wasn’t what they did, boys pushed each other and gave handshakes, but they didn’t hold hands.

In the Wizard world, Harry had noticed a lot more boys hugging here, and it made him uncomfortably confused.

He’d always been taught not to hug boys or else he’d be a fairy.

Maybe the boys were fairies? Maybe fairies weren’t small like in Peter Pan, and were actually human sized, and maybe fairies weren’t bad?

Harry tilted his head down so Beatrice wouldn’t be able to see his face.

“Beatrice? Does the wizarding world have fairies?”

He felt her head turn to look at him but he kept his head down, “Yeah,” she answered after a bit of hesitation and confusion. “They’re similar to pixies, if you remember seeing them in your first year from the fifth year’s classroom. They’re pretty small and they live in woodlands and meadows.”

Harry let his head droop down further, “Oh. So, the boys here…”

Beatrice shut her book and shifted more towards him, “What’s this about, Harry? Fairies don’t go to school.”

Harry felt his throat constrict and he felt himself begin to shiver. _If they weren’t fairies, then he couldn’t be a fairy and if he wasn’t a fairy then he couldn’t hold Tom’s hand_.

Harry felt his lip wobble and felt his frustration grow. He didn’t want to be a cry-baby. “The muggles-”

Harry cut himself off. _What if he told Beatrice that the muggles thought fairies were boys liking boys? What if that was offensive to fairies? What if Beatrice hated him? Boys shouldn’t like boys, boys couldn’t like boys, it wasn’t natural or right and it was against god and she was going to send him to get another exorcism and Harry didn’t want to go through another exorcism but_-

“Harry! Breathe!” Beatrice was in front of him and had her hands on her shoulders. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were watery and Harry felt horrible.

Had he done that?

“Are you-are you okay?” He asked cautiously. Yeah, she was nice but he’d never made her _cry_ before.

She gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob and shook her head muttering, “Has a meltdown and asks if _I’m_ okay. Yes, Harry I’m fine, are you okay?”

Harry felt his eyes water and felt the need to blink, but he knew if he blinked then tears would fall and he didn’t want to cry because _boys don’t cry_.

Harry sniffed and jutted his bottom lip out. “I-I like you, a lot.” Harry began. “Like _a lot_, but-”

Harry cut himself off. What if he lost her?

“I like him too, just in a different way.” He whispered.

Beatrice sighed heavily, “Is that it, then?” She sat back with a huff, “You had me worried y’know. This is all because of your crush on Riddle?”

Harry didn’t blink but the tears fell anyway and he took in a stuttering breath, “Don’t call the church, please.”

Beatrice scooted towards him, “Harry, I don’t know what a church is. What’s wrong with you liking Riddle, other than him being a Slytherin.”

Harry felt his body shake and he curled into himself, “He’s a _boy_.” He urged her to understand.

She stared at him with blank confusion and Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Boys can’t like boys, everybody knows that. If they do, they’re called fairies but you said that fairies don’t go here, so I can’t be a fairy, and if I’m not a fairy then I can’t like Riddle because he’s a boy and,” his breath halted and his couldn’t hold in his crying anymore.

“Harry, boys can like boys. Girls can like girls too. Riddle is handsome, anyone can see that and it’s okay if you can appreciate that.”

Harry shook his head, “No, Beatrice it isn’t okay, nobody says it’s okay.”

Beatrice frowned, “Who says it isn’t?”

“The muggles! I’ve-They-It isn’t okay!”

She rolled her eyes, “It may not be okay there, but it is here. Just ask my moms.”

Harry furrowed his brows in confusions, “You have more than one mom? What about a dad?”

Beatrice shook her head happily, “I don’t have one! My moms are two girls and they love each other. Who need’s a dad when you’ve got two moms?”

Harry looked down, “I don’t have a dad or two moms.”

She pulled him into a hug and Harry let himself cry. Maybe it was okay.

At the end of second year, Harry found Tom on the train and felt his cheeks flush when the Slytherin smiled at him.

Harry bit his lip and looked at where Tom was sitting. “I’m not a fairy.”

Tom frowned deeply and Harry could see he was getting upset.

“But I like you anyways.”

Tom’s eyebrows raised and his mouth parted in surprise.

Harry bit his cheek and looked back at the compartment’s door and back to Tom.

“That’s all I wanted to say. Have a good summer, Tom!” Harry rushed out before leaving.

He ran back to where Beatrice was, saving his seat and shut the curtains after he locked the door.

He sunk down in his seat with a small smile. “I told him I liked him even though I’m not a fairy.”

Beatrice shook her head with a laugh, “I don’t think fairy means what you say it means.”

Harry gave an unsure smile that she returned brightly. Harry couldn’t wait for next year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boys can like boys, girls can like girls, boys can cry, girls can like both, you can like anyone or no one
> 
> harry has extremely negative experiences about liking boys so he's scared that it'll happen again. beatrice has two moms that are lesbians, tom never let anyone touch him or hurt him after he was able to control his magic, so he has no prior experiences with homophobia


End file.
